"You need to shit or get off the pot," she says.
I gawp up at my girlfriend from my knelt position. This is not how I expected my marriage proposal to go.
"What do you mean?"
Out of the corner of my eye I see an old couple come round the corner of the forest path, spot us, and turn swiftly back. They want no part of this.
"You follow me on Substack, but you don't subscribe," she seethes. "What's that about? Do you have commitment issues, or something?"
My right knee is beginning to get wet, and every now and then I wobble slightly as I almost lose my balance. I'm still holding out the ring like a prize idiot. Even the trees look embarrassed.
She continues: "It's like stripping naked, getting into bed, and then refusing to have intercourse."
Strange thing to say, I think, but manage to stutter out a few words. "I-I thought following was subscribing."
She turns on her heel and strides off, but I catch her words before they are caught away on the breeze.
"No, they're two different things," she says. "The Substack user interface needs some work."
I felt this one.
Damn interface.
Accurate 😅